


I wanted It To Be You

by Girleverafter



Series: Touch of Silver [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:55:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girleverafter/pseuds/Girleverafter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has been attacked, but will he survive his wounds? Derek doesn’t seem to think so, and that's something he can't handle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I wanted It To Be You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silverdreaming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverdreaming/gifts).



Crimson comes bubbling slowly, sliding through the parted, chapped lips, and Stiles’ breath rattles as he opens his eyes, obviously fighting to focus on him. “I’m sorry… I’m- I wanted… I’m so, so sorry. It s-should’ve been you. I wanted it to be you,” Stiles laughs bitterly, and the noise bleeds into a cough that wrecks his broken body. His eyes rolls heavenward and he shudders, breathing hard for a moment.

“S-sorry. I- it wasn’t sup-supposed to happen like this,” Stiles’ voice is breaking, and the hand gripping Derek’s tightens so much that the wolf feels his bones creak. Stiles’ eyes are so wide now, scared and desperate, looking at Derek for forgiveness, of all things. Derek feels his throat close up “Stiles,” His voice sounds thin and shaky. A million words are flying through the alpha’s head. How can he possibly find any words that’ll heal, that’ll undo the damages caused by the rouge alpha? There’s so, so much blood. 

But maybe… 

Derek is certain that Stiles will die. Unless. Unless the monster responsible for this nightmare, bit with intent. If he gave the bite to Stiles? Delirious though he is, Stiles seems to think so. Stiles. He’s going quiet, his heartbeat slowing. Derek shakes him “Stiles! Did he give you the bite?!” There’s no answer. The alpha feels panic clawing at his mind “Stiles!” He shakes the boy harder, and Stiles jerks awake, scared eyes focusing once more on Derek. Derek’s not sure what the boy sees in his eyes, but Stiles looks sad, like Derek is the one saying goodbye. 

“Stiles, please! Tell me; did he give you the bite?” Stiles offers him a tired smile “Derek, l-look at me,” it’s more breath than actual voice, but to Derek’s ears it might as well have been a scream.  
Derek realizes that Stiles is misunderstanding him, so he cuts him off, wanting to get to the point and not waste possible precious seconds “Stiles, just stop. Did, did the alpha give you the bite?” The boy is blinking slowly, like he doesn’t understand, or didn’t hear Derek. The alpha tightens his grip around the frail body, fighting down the urge to cry. Just a little longer. Just a few minutes more. Just a few seconds? Derek doesn’t think he’s asking for much.

He buries his face in the hollow of Stiles’ neck, disregarding the blood smearing across his cheek as he does so. He breathes in hard. Maybe, if he believes it enough, he’ll be able to breathe for the both of them. 

“Just tell me. Pleasepleaseplease… just tell me he did it,” The smell of Stiles is enveloping him, drowning out everything else, but the slow beat of the boy’s heart and the shallow rush of inhales and exhales.

“Derek. You need to let him go. Just, let him go. It’ll be ok” Deaton’s voice comes through, but it’s muffled, reminding him of when his mom tried to get him out of bed on Sunday mornings, as he hid beneath his pillow.  
Warm hands touches his shoulders ever so carefully, pulling him back “Derek, I can’t help if you don’t let me see him” He doesn’t want to let go. He’s hunched in over Stiles, protecting him. Protecting him from what? Deaton? Scott sobbing in the corner of the room? 

Death?

“He’s not answering my question,” Derek mumbles, his face still pushed into the crook of Stiles shoulder “He won’t answer”. It takes a second pair of hands to pull him away from Stiles, Isaac embracing him from behind “Derek, come on. Let Deaton to his thing. It’ll be alright. You’ll see” he lets go, stepping around his alpha and offering a smile that never reaches his eyes. Derek straightens and looks past Isaac, wiping the back of his hand across his cheek, smearing the blood further. He sniffs. Is that smoke? He looks back, trying to catch sight of a flickering flame, or billowing smoke. He sees none, but he can smell it. Could it be a trap? Even in it’s crazed state of mind, could the alpha pull of a fire trap? There’s no smoke. Nothing. Derek feels like he’s falling to pieces where he stands, wild eyes flickering from familiar face, to familiar face, to Stiles dying on the ground.

No.

Minutes go by. Or maybe it’s hours? Derek isn’t sure. It’s as if someone found a brain remote control and simultaneously hit ‘pause’ and ‘mute‘. Hedoesn’t remember a thing. One second he’s turning around himself, looking for invisible fires, the next he’s hunched in a corner of the clinic, refusing to look at anything but the tiled floor or the rust colored powder, crusting beneath his nails. He could look up, he could. But he’s afraid of what he’ll see.

“We should’ve taken him to the hospital!” Scott’s voice is high pitched and frantic, while Allison’s is soft and trembling “And say what, Scott? Deaton is better equipped to handle things like this anyway. They’d be too busy trying to figure out how it happened” Derek hates the fact that in the midst of all this, a cynical voice in the back of his mind is agreeing with her. 

“But…” Scott’s voice dwindles into nothing, and Derek doesn’t have to look to know Allison is hugging him tightly.

Right now, Derek wishes someone would pull out that remote and hit ‘mute’ again. He’s not sure he can handle Scott’s desperate sobs and mutters of “If I just… I should’ve been faster”, the hum of the computer at the reception or the horrible noises of tools putting flesh back together, coming from the other room. He doesn’t have complete control of his senses, and he can’t drown all these thing out, can’t focus on the one thing he’s desperate to hear; the steady beat of Stiles’ heart.

He should just go. He should leave, no run. Run and never look back. Ever since he returned to this fucking town, everything he touches turns rotten. There’s such a horribly short list of things that Derek cherishes, that he’d never want to break. Laura was on that list, and Derek knows he broke her, by not stopping her coming back here. His motley crew of a pack is on that list, and some days Derek thinks he broke them by giving them the bite. 

And then there’s Stiles.

He isn’t sure how Stiles ended up at the top of that list. At some point between all the bitching and sarcastic remarks, Stiles managed to make room for himself right along side Laura, her name crossed out in angry, bloody lines. And now Derek has to wait for Deaton to come out of the room, close the door behind him with care, and with a grave expression deliver the message that will cross out Stiles just the same. He should run, but all he can do is wait and breathe, trying to listen.

Someone places a steaming mug of tea on the floor beside him, and Isaac slides down until he’s sitting up against the wall, as close as he can without making the alpha feel cornered. He doesn’t say anything. There’s no offering of worthless assurances or useless attempts at comfort. Isaac just pushes one of his legs out a bit, so that his foot touches Derek’s ankle.  
Derek doesn’t take the mug, but the tea helps, nonetheless, the smell of it soothing the tiniest bit, softening the edges of Derek’s quiet panic. Scott is still sobbing into Allison’s shirt, but it no longer sounds as desperate. Though the level of grief is the same, Scott’s quieting down, clinging to Allison as she strokes his back. Derek knows she’s staying strong for Scott’s sake, locking away her own sadness, softly shushing him. It helps Derek to calm just that bit more, and he feels something inside him break open. His breath hitches and he covers his face with his hands, trying to breathe through it. He doesn’t cry out loud, but try as he might, he can’t stop the gasping sobs from escaping his mouth. Isaac says nothing, he just leans sideways a bit, placing a hand on Derek’s upper arm, squeezing it.. 

They must make quite the dramatic picture. Allison and Scott clutching each other in one corner, Derek and Isaac huddled in the opposite corner. He’d laugh if he wasn’t crying. And then he hears it, the achingly familiar sound. 

For a second the whole world stops. 

“Derek? Derek, breathe man” Isaac’s hand is stroking his arm gently, but the alpha isn’t really listening.

When Scott stills too, the tension in the room becomes so thick even Allison turns to look at the door hiding the examination room. Everything seems to be moving at a glacial pace as the door opens enough to let Deaton through. He closes it behind him, his expression grave as he looks at each of them. Derek tries to push himself up from the floor, but his body is ignoring his brain now, and he breathes in hard, looking at Deaton, scared that maybe he heard wrong in his desperation for a sign

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” Deaton is wiping his hands, talcum powder residue from his gloves drifting through the air. Derek steels himself, waiting for the inevitable blow. He knows he’s holding his breath again, like a child holding it’s breath until it gets what it wants, but he doesn’t care. Deaton exhales, like he’s done the same, but for hours “He’s, stable. I don’t know how; even if he received the bite, he shouldn’t have been able to- not with injuries this severe. But,” he huffs, a smile spreading on his lips “I guess that boy is not ready to leave you all, just yet” 

Allison claps her hands to her mouth with a gasp, and Scott’s laugh sounds like he thinks the doctor is joking. A quiet “thank god” escapes Isaac as he sags against the wall.

“Does this mean that he’s…” Scott can’t seem to finish the sentence, but his eyes says everything that needs to be said. Derek looks from him to Deaton, the same question ricocheting around his mind, turning it into bloody pulp. Stiles will live. Stiles is alive. “I’m not certain. It’s not that easy to tell, this soon. But,” He’s cut short by Derek moving past him and through the door in a blur. The room reeks of blood, but it’s of no matter.

He closes the door behind him, secure in the knowledge that the others will stay away until their alpha says so. He just needs this moment alone. Stiles is pale, lying under a crisp white sheet, his body cleaned, making the cuts and bruises stand out in greater contrast. Most of his chest is covered by bandages wrapped securely over his shoulder and under his left arm, covering the sewn together gashes left by the teeth of the rogue.

Closer to, Stiles smells of antibiotics and anesthetics, and Derek leans in over him, blocking out the harsh light, softening the lines of Stiles’ face. It won’t take much, he just has to focus, get past the smell of drugs and find the spark, the clue that well tell the alpha everything he needs to know. He breathes in slowly, analyzing and cataloguing every scent. Beneath the synthetic smells of the drugs lingers the faint trace of fear and pain, and underneath that; mojito gum, grass and deodorant, and underneath that… 

Derek’s eyes snap open. 

There it is, the faintest hint of change in body chemistry as the bite takes effect. He can’t help the smile curling his lips as he straightens up. He still has time. And it’s not just seconds. 

He’s about to let the others in as Stiles shifts and an almost inaudible whine is heard, and Derek stops, looking down at the slight frown on the boy’s face. Even drugged up as he is, he must still be in pain. Derek might not have been able to stop Stiles from getting hurt, but he can make the pain go away. He places his hand gently in the vee where Stiles’ neck meets his shoulder and draws it out. 

“Don’t worry,” He whispers as the black tendrils curl up his arm and away from the boy.

“You’re alright. You’re gonna be ok. You’re gonna be great”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as an askbox fanfic over at silverdreaming on tumblr (whom I like to torture with feels) I decided to collect the whole set, and proceeded to fix it up a little.
> 
> This hasn't been beta'd.


End file.
